


above the ground

by couldaughter



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: During Canon, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: “I’m fine,” said Din, making a calming motion with his free hand. “Just need to get a sling for this.”At that, the kid made another, slightly more plaintive noise. His head tilted, eyes wide.Din wished he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be five minutes, kid. Just sit tight.”
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 286





	above the ground

The sight of a starfield through the transparisteel of the cockpit never failed to make Din’s heart skip a beat. That first moment of leaving atmo for the endless sprawl of space was overwhelming no matter how much time he spent hauling from Tattooine to Kashyyk and everywhere in between.

Space travel wasn’t all wonder, though.

He sighed, then rotated his shoulder a few times and tried not to wince too obviously. The kid was in the passenger seat, as usual, gnawing at a nutrition bar and trying not to look as interested in the control board as he clearly was. Little womp rat had almost caused more than one accident in the weeks since they’d left Nevarro last.

His shoulder wasn’t giving up though, reminding him of his last run-in with an angry 

Devaronian every time he shifted his weight. He sighed again, more heavily, and set the auto-pilot before pushing himself out of the pilot’s chair with a groan.

The kid made an inquisitive noise, ears pointing up. 

“I’m fine,” said Din, making a calming motion with his free hand. “Just need to get a sling for this.” 

At that, the kid made another, slightly more plaintive noise. His head tilted, eyes wide.

Din wished he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be five minutes, kid. Just sit tight.”

Another noise, perilously close to a wail. Din wavered. He’d never heard the kid cry, thank god, and certainly never made him, and wasn’t planning on starting any time soon.

He scooped up a stray flimsy and stylus from the dashboard and held it out. “Draw me a picture, okay? It’ll help, uh, develop your hands. Probably.” Omera had mentioned something about enrichment, back on Sorgan. He tried to take it to heart, but it was hard to make a lot of time for arts and crafts on the Crest.

The kid cooed at the present, tiny fingers pressing indents into the thin plastic. Din took the opportunity and only paused for a moment to pat the kid on the head, soft as always.

He made his way to the ladder and more or less jumped down to the lower level, letting his jets ease him down to land. The Rising Phoenix wasn’t really meant for that level of everyday maneuvering, but it was a lot easier than trying to get down one handed.

Back before he’d taken the job that changed his stupid life, he’d got by on a pretty rudimentary medkit. A few cans of bacta spray, a couple of field dressings — nothing that would take up too much space in a pack. Now, though, he’d acquired a bunch of annoying people who insisted on caring about his wellbeing, and who constantly presented him with medical supplies of dubious legality and specific purpose.

He dug through the much expanded foot locker of supplies and eventually managed to pull the sling out and slide it over his shoulder. After a moment, and with a slight pang of guilt at the waste, he pulled out a disposable heat pack and cracked it before tucking it beneath the strap.

The bacta could wait until he was limber enough to actually take off his under armour, _and_ until the kid was asleep so he wouldn’t spend the whole time fending off attempts to heal him with sorcery. All it ever did was wipe the kid out, and Din knew he’d heal up on his own, eventually. No point risking the kid for a bum shoulder.

Climbing back up the ladder was a lot more difficult than jumping down it had been, but with his dominant hand strapped up he couldn’t actually reach to activate Rising Phoenix without potentially causing further damage.

He pulled himself out into the cockpit and blinked up at the passenger seat, which was empty.

A newly familiar panic thrummed in his veins. It was unsettling, the first time he’d felt it, realising the kid was out of sight. Now he was at least able to breath through it and glance around at the more obvious hiding spots.

He spotted the tip of one pale green ear poking out from behind a durasteel crate of rations he’d traded for at the last lunar outpost they’d stopped at. “Kid,” he said softly, crouching down beside the crate. “You need to keep the seatbelt on. We’ve talked about this.”

The kid cooed at him, a gap-toothed smile which always made Din feel a little bit like he was dying, and waved his hands in a clear request for _Up!._

Din was a sucker for this kid. He slid his hands carefully around the kid’s tiny torso and pulled him up, cradling him automatically against his chestplate. 

A tiny hand struck him at the base of his neck. “Hey,” he said, looking down at the kid. “Watch your hands.” Then he actually looked, and realised the hand he’d been hit with was clutching the flimsy he’d passed over earlier.

“Huh,” he murmured. The kid clapped his hands and babbled, a string of syllables that could’ve meant _Look at this_ or _I want food_ for all Din understood it. He accepted the flimsy, anyway, and squinted at it through his visor.

A tall stick figure with a square helmet, t-shaped visor slightly tilted, stared back at him. The stick figure was holding a tiny ball with triangle ears which he assumed was the kid’s attempt at a self portrait. The ears were a little too big. Two suns hung in the sky, much bigger than usual. They hadn’t been to Tattooine since the Krayt Dragon, months before.

It was nice to get confirmation that the kid remembered who he was.

“Oh,” he said. His throat felt tight. “This is, uh, this is pretty good, kid.” 

The kid babbled a little more, then curled his ears down against his head and closed his eyes, pressing closer to Din’s chest. Automatically, Din slid the heat pack out from his sling and down under the kid’s stomach. Kid was a lot more prone to shivering than Din was.

He sat down in the pilot’s chair, still cradling the kid. He looked down, the kid still breathing steadily in sleep, and slid the flimsy into his belt pouch. Wouldn’t do to lose the kid’s first work of art.

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends. i wrote this in the course of about an hour because i watched all of the mandalorian this week and feel completely insane about it, so if it feels a little choppy that may be why! i just love these two so much
> 
> din djarin for INTERGALACTIC DAD OF THE YEAR... who else is doing it like him, i ask you
> 
> title from thank you mario but our princess is in another castle by the mountain goats & kaki king, thus officially ending my streak of NOT using tmg lyrics. we had a good run
> 
> find me on twitter/tumblr @dotsayers!


End file.
